


Take Six

by adaughterofeve



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, Romantic Fluff, Siblings, Tripskye wedding!, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:44:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adaughterofeve/pseuds/adaughterofeve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma concluded that the cosmos had conspired to keep her from meeting Leo Fitz on no less than five separate occasions. </p>
<p>But the cosmos, truly, is no match for Skye. </p>
<p>An “I caught the garter and you caught the bouquet” AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Six

**Author's Note:**

> For tumblr user ftzsimmorse! Happy Valentines Day, love! I hope you enjoy your story! I will post the other two chapters once a week for the next two weeks.

Jemma concluded that the cosmos had conspired to keep them from meeting before on no less than five occasions. 

The first, though she hadn’t realized it until much later, had been on a particularly dismal day at a conference in New York. The thundershowers had appeared as if magically conjured, leaving Jemma uncomfortable in clingy damp tights and her business heels and the conference down one speaker. Jemma had clicked her tongue disapprovingly, flipping absently through her information packet for the name of the missing speaker who should have been presenting novel surveillance techniques by a national defense contractor. Whoever this Leo Fitz was, she had told herself, he obviously didn’t put much in store by being prompt. 

The second occurred with the haphazard combination of a rescheduled meeting, a missed bus, and the severe want of a cup of tea. The dinner that Skye had thrown saw brief appearances by them both, but separated by a mere half-hour. 

On the third occasion, she actually glimpsed the back of his head in a crowd, only to be swept off by an urgent phone call and a friend in need.

By the fourth time, Skye’s engagement had officially been announced and she lamented to Jemma, with a great huff of annoyance, that Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons hadn’t even spoken yet. Skye had grandiose plans for the two of them, not the least of which were five kids and a house in Scotland. 

The fifth time had transpired last night. Skye and her fiancé, Antoine Triplett, had hosted a combined bachelor-bachelorette party with the wedding party at some hip and upscale rooftop bar that Skye had insisted required a real dress and absolutely no pants of any kind. Jemma hadn’t been entirely convinced that it hadn’t been some plot on Skye’s part to manipulate Jemma into a sparkly and form-fitting dress to finally meet the great Leo Fitz. Her suspicions only grew when no one was unhappier than Skye when he was hindered from coming. The bride-to-be had hung up the phone with a grouchy pout and immediately seized Jemma’s hand. She didn’t release it until several drinks later, when Jemma and Skye were barefoot, dancing loosely on top of a table, and screeching the words of the music to each other. 

Now that Leo Fitz finally stood in front of her, hand extended for her to take, she hardly knew what to do. Her hands hung loosely in the folds of her rehearsal dress, eyes locked on his in honest surprise. She knew he had to be present for some part of the festivities: he was the best man, after all. But still, she half-expected a rampaging bull to come and stampede him or a freak hurricane to blow him away. She could almost imagine the fuss that Skye would make then, less so that her best man was scattered in soggy, bull-crushed pieces across the county and more so that yet again the cosmos had interceded. She blinked and realized she had simply been staring agog at him as the seconds ticked by. “I’m sorry, what?”

His smile hesitated, hand still awkwardly bobbing between them. “I’m Leo Fitz. I understand my sister’s been trying to introduce us for a while.” 

Jemma frowned, feeling distinctly foggy and searching his earnest and mild-mannered blue eyes and golden-brown hair that was just too short to curl for any sign of her adrenaline-junkie, fire-spitting best friend. “Your sister?”

“Daisy. Oh, shit I forgot. Skye. Daisy’s her real name. She’s my foster sister, really. We were both adopted.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably, glancing around. “Look, can you just shake my hand, this is starting to look weird…”

“Oh!” Jemma quickly extended her hand and he grasped her fingers with surprisingly warm and unexpectedly rough ones of his own. “I’m sorry, I must look like an idiot. I’m--”

“Jemma Simmons. Yeah, I know.” 

Her cheeks flushed. She pulled back her hand, already feeling the warmth of his grasp fading. She gripped the cotton fabric of her sundress to keep from reaching back. “Skye talk about me a lot, Leo?”

His warm smile shifted to rueful. “Just Fitz, please. And yeah, she does.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair as if to stymie nerves. “But I’ve also read up on you a lot.”

Jemma’s face erupted in a fierce blush, burning across her cheeks. “You have?”

Fitz nodded seriously, glancing at the wood floor and back. “I think your work on novel therapeutics and neurotoxins is fascinating. And your dissertation on the secretory pattern of thyroid hormones in patients undergoing hypothetical rapid regeneration is--” he paused, his hands imitating an explosion. “It’s, well it’s brilliant.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled a little sheepishly. 

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she managed to produce sounds. “But I thought you did engineering!” she finally stuttered out. 

“Well I’ve always thought that engineering and biochemistry work best together.” He raised an eyebrow, regarding her curiously. “But how did you know? Skye told you about me?”

Jemma couldn’t help but trace the outline of his shoulders beneath his dress shirt, distracted somewhat at the effect of the navy color on his eyes. His rolled-up sleeves bared well-defined forearms, veins protruding around his muscles in a most fascinating way. She clenched her hands in the folds of her dress even more fiercely and cleared her throat. “You were supposed to speak at a conference I was at last June,” she finally admitted, somewhat lamely. 

“Ughhh… not the International Congress on Science and Technology…” He run his hands through his hair again, roughing up the golden curls and smoothing them back down again, and laughing in dismay. “You were there?”

“Was there another conference in June in New York that you missed?” she asked dryly, trying valiantly not to watch his fingers comb through his hair and, unexpectedly, dying to mimic the motion. 

“My flight was grounded with the weather and I spent my seminar in cramped economy cabin. I suppose I could have given my talk to my fellow passengers, but somehow I don’t think they would have appreciated it.” He frowned in thought and shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Plus they wouldn’t have been able to see the figures.” 

“Fitz!” someone hissed from behind him. He turned to investigate and grinned, wryly. “Excuse me,” he said to Jemma. “If I don’t say hi to my sister before the rehearsal actually starts I fear what her wrath will bring.” 

Jemma stuttered what she hoped resembled an assenting response and stared after him with a frank expression as he hurried towards Skye. The beaming smile that spread across Skye’s face at his approach made Jemma smile too. Fitz swung his sister up in an enthusiastic hug and laughed, the distance blurring their words into his melodic Scottish brogue and her more enthusiastic timbre. When he dropped the hug, Skye punched him in the arm and Jemma giggled softly into her hands at his cry of protest. Fitz clasped solid hands with Trip and the two nodded and clapped each other on the back, clearly friendly with each other. After a minute’s exchange between the siblings that Jemma watched curiously, Skye waved one last threatening finger and shoed Fitz away, grinning broadly. Music began to play over hidden speakers in the depths of the wooden beams and Fitz hurried back over to Jemma’s side, still chuckling. 

Jemma tried not to smile too broadly when he returned and reached for her arm, filing easily in line behind the rows of bridesmaids and groomsmen while the orders of the wedding planner went unheard. Beneath the thin fabric of his dress shirt, she could feel the corded muscles of his forearm. His skin was warm against the curve of her wrist and she could smell the polished scent of his cologne. She shook her head a little, trying to focus, and failing entirely when Fitz leaned down and murmured in her ear over the sounds of the music and directions being given. 

“My sister is quite the matchmaker. Seems she has us sitting together at dinner tonight and at the wedding tomorrow.” 

Jemma dared to look up into his gaze and felt a stammer within her ribs. “Yeah?”

Fitz offered a small smile, but the depth in his gaze was intense. “I don’t mind.”

She nodded mutely, trusting silence over her stuttering tongue, and snuck a peek over to Skye. Her friend was enthusiastically nodding and giving two big thumbs up from the back of the makeshift aisle. Jemma couldn’t restrain the grin that split across her face and she bit her lip, squeezing Fitz’s arm linked in hers. 

“I don’t mind either.”

Cosmos be damned.


End file.
